The Company of Myself
by Rivenoir
Summary: A lonely man. A psychologist.   Nothing else, but the company of myself. Alone.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: New Case at Hand.

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><p>AN: Well, I would hate to drop a bomb, but this' a story I've been wanting to do for quite some while. You might find the title interesting. It's named after a cool short game. Of course, I'll be playing around the vagueness of it. It might end with one case, or I might extend it, depending on how successful this is. Anyway, on to the story~.

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><p>The man sipped on his coffee, admiring the bitter aroma, aptly described as bittersweet. He pondered on why his brother always had it with cream and heaps of sugar. It was like adding impurities to the already perfect drink. Then again, the said brother of his had always been fond of licorice, and he brushed it aside, blaming it on his sweet tooth.<p>

He stretched his hands, and was about to flip open a file for a check if all procedures had been done. This profession of his, after all, was a delicate one. With satisfaction, the man nodded to himself and continued to savour his drink. That is, till the serentiy was broken by a knock against his office door.

"Bondevik. May I?"

The English accent in the question had disclosed the visitor's identity long before said person entered.

"Ja, Arthur."

Even though he knew full well that he was not in Norway, he could not help but to let out a few words from his native tongue. He thought fondly about his homeplace, before gazing about the room as he waited for Arthur to seat himself. His office was rather... homely. This was not a surprise. The Norwegian had spent so many hours caught up at work that the office would be considered as another home of his.

"Let us drop the formalities, shall we, Lukas? My purpose today is to inform you of a new patient that would be under your supervision"

Arthur got up and dropped a thin file on his table. By the time Lukas looked up from the file, the Englishman had left.

_...It must be important since he did not even give me an option to reject._

With a sigh, he flipped open the file. There was a brief summary of the profile, but all Lukas needed was the name and the address.

"Magnus Densen..." He mumbled his name experimentally. To Lukas' unseen delight, the location of his new patient was not far. As he got up and prepared to leave the office, he could not help but to read the minor details of the profile.

_**Tried for the Murder of his Wife. Sentence not given.**_

_**Reason: Instability of the Defendant's Mental Health**_

_Murder...? That damned Brit._

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><p>Short. Yes. Will be longer next time. Promise. And I'll be switching to 1st Person POV. This's like a prologue.<p>

Do review~


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Meet the Patient

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><p><strong>AN: This's a quick one. And a longer one. And thanks to the 3 people who reviewed. It really motivates me. Hope you guys don't mind that sudden change in the POV either. Even though I've already warned you guys.**

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><p>I ended up being there sooner than expected. After looking around, looking, not snooping, mind you, I found it rather disturbing to think that such an ordinary looking household was owned by a potentially dangerous and mentally unstable person. After rapping on the door sharply three times, I stood back. Just in case that door swings outwards. It actually happened to me once, but that would definitely be off the point. Alas, the door opened. And it swings inwards, thankfully.<p>

"Who are you…?"

The man, who was obviously Magnus, easily identified since his picture was on the file cover, asked with a slightly down tone. It didn't fit that face of his, in my opinion.

"Bondevik. Lukas Bondevik. I am your new psychologist."

I held out my business card casually, which I took out from my little handy cardholder in my pocket.

"Hej. Do come in. I'll share my story with ya."

With that, he gestured for me to enter and grabbed the card at the same time. Rather rough grip, that Magnus. It was rather amusing that he seemed cheered up rather… quickly.

I got to work as soon as I stepped in. Weirdly, almost everything in his house were in pairs. Two bowls of food set on the table, two pairs of sandals on the floor. Being a mildly curious person, I strolled a little closer to the bowls on the table, at the same time observing the surroundings. Sadly, I seem prone to be disrupted.

"HEJ! That's for my wife!"

I sighed and mumbled an apology, immediately removing myself from the area surrounding the food.

_…Isn't his wife dead? Does he know that HE killed her?_

That was rather questionable. Reaching into my forever trustworthy pockets, I fished out a notebook. Hurriedly, I jotted some notes down and considered having an ice-breaking session and a small short introduction. It was rather handy to understand the situation, based on my experience.

"So… What's your name?"

"Magnus Harold Densen."

So, he had a middle name…. Since he remembers his name, it would be a less likely chance that he was suffering brain damage or memory loss. But why did he seem oblivious that he was the cause of his beloved wife's death?

"Where are you from, Densen?"

"Copenhagen. My wife and I migrated here. And call me Magnus instead."

A fellow Scandinavian? That's rather nice. Explains why he sounds like he have a potato wedged in his mouth. Ahem. I meant that it explains his accent.

"You mentioned a story just now, Magnus. Care to share?"

"It's too long Lukas! How about another day?"

He seems TOO cheered up. Nonetheless, I just looked into my notebook and checked my schedule. I can be rather busy, you know?

"Tomorrow, at say… 3pm?"

"Mm, ja!"

That's settled then. And I think I'm a little blinded by that megawatt smile of his. I think he just broke the record for the fastest mood change. Then again… maybe not. I slowly made my way to the door, before being promptly shoved rather hurriedly out. By none other than my patient.

"Hurry, hurry! I don't want to be late for my dinner. Farvel!"

In a state of shock, he closed the door just when I turned around. Before it closed, I swear I caught a glimpse of a box and two flowers on the window sill behind him. Rather interesting decorations, in my personal opinion.

Before I made my leave, I ended up standing outside for a while, collating my notes. Truthfully, it was rather creepy, since I had to endure some laughter from the inside of Magnus' house as I read the files and the notes.

Shrugging it off by convincing myself that he was just listening to talk shows or something, I decided to head home, seeing that it was rather late. My actual home, of course. Ah, thank god that the bus arrived rather quickly. For once. And there's a seat! I rushed to that seat before anyone could intercept me.

I ended up looking out of the window throughout, and daydreaming as per normal. Rather funny that I myself was someone really… weird for a psychologist. Many doubted my abilities, actually. What can I say?

_After all, the best psychologist is a mad one._

I slowly got off at my stop, wanting to change the pace of the day a little. Whistling softly as I got to my house, I fished out my keys from my back pocket. I should get a bag. But I would hate wasting time and effort carrying it around.

Hang on one second. Why the hell is my house lights on. Who the heck is in there?

_Faen._

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><p><strong>Heheh, hope you guys like this one. I wanted to practice this POV real badly. Also, dropping some contradictions here and there. Or character foils for literature learners. Oh, and introducing someone else into the story~ <strong>

**Review please~!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: An Underappreciated Reunion

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><p>AN: This time, I would stuff the note below. And put a disclaimer which I forgot to. I fail.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Company of Myself (The game by 2DArray) and Hetalia.**

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><p>I would admit that if I was an average person, I would probably be freaking out and dialing the police by now. Sadly, average would be an insulting word to me. What would be the point of being average when you can be different? I do not care if I am regarded as… Never mind. I am rambling as an unknown person or thing is doing god-knows-what in my house. Very smart choice, me.<p>

Creeping up closer to the house, if you count walking as creeping, I noticed that there were no sounds coming from the inside. Ah, someone is watching television. Great. They are taking advantage of my electricity. Modern people, I look upon with scorn.

Brazenly, I just swung upon the door, not really caring about the consequences. After all, a person watching television would not be able to react that fast, nei? The first thing I did when I stepped in was to stare, more like glare, at the intruder of my house, who is making it seem like his.

"Eiríkur…?"

I stared at the platinum-blonde haired boy sitting on my sofa.

"Lukas…"

Touché. His classic response. Should have expected that. Does nothing at all apart to attempt to unnerve you. Pity it never ever works on me. After a somewhat intense staring session, I gave up and looked at him with a disapproving frown.

"What are you doing here, Eiríkur? Shouldn't you be back at home?"

"Isn't this home?"

He had certainly grown a lot smarter in terms of talking back to his elders. Not that I'm old, but I'm his storebror, after all.

"Mine. Not yours."

"Ours. I rented the old house away. Shame to have a big house with only me staying in it."

I nodded incredulously, appalled by the fact that he had just self-proclaimed the house as a shared property between the two of us.

_How great. _

I waved him to a spare guest room and just went back to my own, feeling too tired to attempt to make sense of the situation. Making sure I locked my room door and switched on the lights, I headed to the table and set the many things from my pocket down on it. With a tired sigh, I sat on the cushioned chair to jot down a brief note about the new case. It seemed like a rather average case, but there was a nagging feeling deep within me. I knew the feeling, but I could not pinpoint the exact definition. It irked me. A lot.

Hastily, I wrote up a few lines about the patient and observation.

**Magnus Densen.**

**Danish. Quick changes of mood. Seems unaware of the death of his wife. Items at home are all in pairs. Seems average.**

I sighed. This case is not an obvious one… Should not be a problem however. I wouldn't be called a professional if I am unable to help such people, nei?

…_Bipolar perhaps? Possibility of repressed memories or trauma. _

It was rather scary to note after this that many ordinary people are actually 'not-so-ordinary'. Ah… I'm rambling again. After trying to recall through and through, I could not find any more hints or little breakthroughs in the case. Not that I was really optimistic about it. I had only talked to him once, after all.

Now, time to think about my unwelcomed brother. Don't get me wrong, it is not that I dislike him staying around. I miss him, really. And no, don't expect me to be all brotherly to him. Our family is a weird one. I just can't help but to think that he was being an obstruction, a barrier to my work. But I am pretty sure it is not that right to call my brother that, ja?

With a tiresome sigh, I decided to retire for the night, which would hopefully be uneventful.

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><p><strong>AN: Kinda like a ****filler. It'll get better, I promise. **

**First off, I would love to thank 2DArray for reviewing this fic. I got a shock honestly. **

**Secondly, all readers, thank you for dropping reviews and I do reply them. It's nice to chat with you guys. xD**

**And here's the thing. I need you guys to choose between some things.**

**Do you guys want a Sad ending, a vague ending, or a happy one?**

**And do you want the case to end at Denmark? I can add more, but it'll be moving away from the plot of the game. **

**And now that you're done,**

**Do leave a review and tell me about your opinions and choices!**

**Cheers,**

**Stygian Vedrfolnir.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Look who decided to grace you guys with a double update! Apparently, all I needed was a cup of coffee. Anyway, enjoy!**

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><p>Lukas sat across Eiríkur as he sipped on his cup of coffee. It was probably the only thing that kept the Norwegian running for the past… god knows how many years of his working life. It was technically considered brunch as the duo had woken up late. And by late, it meant noon. Eiríkur kept himself busy by filling up some forms of his own, occasionally stopping to take a bite off his toast. Lukas finally looked up from his notebook and peeked at the forms.<p>

"I'm filling up applications for jobs." Eiríkur automatically replied even though he was still focusing his attention on the small stack of paperwork. Lukas gave a soft hum, signaling his acknowledgment. He later sighed and leant back against the chair, carelessly tossing the book onto the table. Iceland, however, acted as if nothing happened. He was used to it, after all.

"What's the case of yours? Seems like trouble." Eiríkur commented as he looked up from his papers and dropped his pen onto the wooden table. Lukas nodded. He was slightly disturbed at how easily Eiríkur could see through him, even though he knew that he was being rather obvious this time. It bugged him to a tiny, minute extent. Nothing big, the Norwegian tried to convince himself.

"Magnus."

"Nice name."

"Dane."

"Got that potato wedge in his throat accent?"

"Mhmm. Very annoying."

"Like all Danes."

"Psychological problem."

"You are a psychologist after all."

"Murder suspect."

"…What."

Lukas looked at Eiríkur, who in turned stared back. There was silence for a while, as neither knew what to say at that point of time. The Icelander was the first to break the ice.

"Be…careful."

"I will. Why?"

"Guilty until proven innocent."

"…Ah."

A pessimistic point of view, but it was a good point, anyway. Lukas could understand that. After all, it was better being safe than sorry. He continued sipping on his coffee as the two went into another instance of silence. Not really the awkward kind, though. They were both used to silence, and honestly preferred it. How dreadful it would be if they could not even hear their own thoughts. This time, however, it was Lukas who broke the silence. In a not-so-appropriate way.

"Remember to pay your rent."

"…You kidding me?"

"You're the one who wanted to move here."

"Nei. Mum kicked me out."

"….Why?"

"Reasons. Asked me to stay with the lunatic brother of mine."

"Still calling me that…?"

"Já. She's never been the same since Father left."

Lukas nodded with a slightly grim look on his face. He remembered of the times where he was called a lunatic by his mother. After a while, he just gave up and ended up being distant from his family. Once he got old enough, he immediately moved out to work. How ironic, considering his past circumstances and his current job. He immediately dropped the thought. It was not time to be thinking about that.

Eiríkur looked at the clock hung on the wall. "I should go off now. Best hand these accursed thing in so that they'll be out of my sight." He held the paper up carelessly, obviously not caring if they were crumpled or not.

"Where are you headed to?" His brother replied as he got up from the chair, gathering the plates and cups. Eiríkur held up a piece of paper close to Lukas' face, who in turn nodded again. "Give me a while. I'll drive."

"You had a car? Did you come home yesterday in a bus?"

"Didn't want to drive to Magnus' house."

"You just didn't want to pay for the gas, didn't you."

"…"

"Miser."

Lukas didn't bother replying to his brother. Deep inside of him, he knew that he had missed the casual bantering. But he was not willing to show it at all. He did not know why, but he felt obligated to hide his feelings. Not wanting to dwell on these, he picked up Eiríkur's pen and his notebook from the table. Not waiting for his brother, he walked opened the door and walked out, simultaneously snatching up his car keys. He threw the house keys over to his brother.

Even though Eiríkur managed to catch the keys, he still gave a slight grumble of annoyance. "Give me a heads-up next time…"

"Whatever, young grasshopper."

The dismissive reply was regarded with an eye roll, courtesy of the Icelander. Also partially due to the reason that he did not know a good retort to that. He kept thinking of possibilities as he stepped into the car, which Lukas drove out from the garage. He silently settled into the shotgun seat. Lukas gave a look towards the quiet passenger before pulling out into the road.

"Thinking of a comeback?" He taunted.

Without replying, Eiríkur increased the volume of the radio, effecting sending the message that the conversation was over.

It was a quiet and uneventful ride. Other than the blaring music coming from the radio. Other than that… nope. Nothing went wrong. Even though Lukas was speeding. Then again, the police car managed to overtake him.

"Security here is stupid."

"Oh. Finally decided to talk, have you?"

"Shut up and drive."

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><p><strong>Seems filler-ish, doesn't it? But I had to. There's some important stuff in this chapter. Background stuff etc, etc.<strong>

**People reading this, go check out Darkest Hour too.**

**I'll love you guys for it.**

**Anyway, hope you have enjoyed this chapter, and yes. I switched POV again. **

**Cheers!**


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